The Taking and Fall of Castiel
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: Castiel is kidnapped...his grace ripped away by Alastair...Alastair visciously tortures him, brutalizes his now human form...Castiel prays to God...but he can no longer hear if he will answer...will Castiel be left to this fate or will he be saved....
1. The Unwilling Fall

Castiel screamed as the pain racheted through his over-wrought nerves....Alastair's face hovered above him, a twisted grin turning his lips. He loved his work and it showed....

"Poor little angel...not so tough without your Grace, are you...." he said, the malice in his tone lending a hiss to his voice. He held up the vial in front of the angel's terror struck face, a eerie, ethereal light played briefly on the angel's features before Alastair tucked the vial back away for safe keeping....

Tears streamed from Castiel's sapphire blue eyes, flowing heavily down his blood and sweat glazed face....he was shut off from the Father...he had never felt so alone...so vulnerable....he had thought about Falling before...of living in the mortal world, but, he simply could not bring himself to leave all that he had ever known behind....Alastair had changed all that...he had taken the right to choose for himself away....Alastair had been waiting for him, knowing how closely he watched his current human charge, the man he had saved from damnation itself…Dean Winchester. Alastair had waited for the perfect moment...the perfect opportunity...he didn't have to wait long before it finally came...Castiel was observing Dean, his attention focused entirely on his charge, oblivious to what was happening around him.....Alastair was upon him before he could react. He plunged his hand into Castiel's angelic form, through his host's body...Alastair gripped his Grace and ripped it from him savagely....Castiel fell to his knees...gasping...unable to transubstantiate himself away to safety. He was locked into his human host. He tried to cry out, but the words would not come. His pain was far more than physical, it was spiritual as well. The overarching warmth and love of his Father was gone in an instant, leaving Castiel unable to breathe....he collapsed forward, his host's body making contact with the hard, wet ground. The loss of his Grace was too much for him to bear. He fell willingly into the abyss of unconsciousness....

He had awoken to Alastair's jackal-like grin hovering over him ...Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the blinding light above him. He was restrained…naked...Helpless and all alone....There would be no salvation for him....Grief took hold of him and he wept tears of abject terror and hopelessness....

Alastair's booming laughter echoed through the room, echoing through Castiel's mind. "Castiel....so good to finally meet you.....I've been waiting far too long to meet you....I have such delicious plans for you, now that you have no one perching on your shoulder and keeping you safe....It gives me such an immense sense of pleasure to have the rare opportunity I have with you...."

For the first time in his long existence, Castiel felt real fear....Silently he prayed to his Father, but he could no longer hear an answer....

Alastair lifted a terrible, sharp blade from the metal table just behind him....he watched it glint brightly in the glare of the light for a moment, fascinated....He turn his cold gaze to Castiel....

"I do so love my work..." he said, his malevolent tone stirring terrible fear beneath Castiel's breast…He brought blade down with surgical precision....piercing Castiel's skin.....drawing the terrible blade through the tenderest pieces of flesh....each cut eliciting a piercing scream from Castiel…his body jerking harshly against the binding restraints, muscle locked in screaming agony...Alastair paused at length, savoring the pain-racked utterances…he waited until he heard the quiet sobs that shook the angel's aching body in between the wounds his inflicted before moving on...there was no need to rush…he had all the time in the world to enjoy the delicious hurt he could inflict upon the body displayed before him…

Castiel's eyes burned, too dry to produce tears any longer...his eyes filled with utter hopelessness...He found he could no longer scream any more…time seemed to stretch on indeterminately…he could only wait with anticipation and fear for the next time the exquisitely acute pain would sear through him, ravaging his torn body once again, burning a path of white-hot pain through his senses…he cried out inside in desperation and terror…

'Father....save me....' he whispered as the blade arched gracefully down toward him once again....he gasped in a silent sob as despair filled his aching soul.....


	2. The Unexpected Visitor

Dean could feel the presence of Angels now…he didn't know why, but he could feel when an Angel was near…whether they made their presence known or not…almost always, it was Cas he felt…though sometimes he felt others…he usually let it slide out of his mind…he had better things to do then worry about beings who liked to get their jollies watching humans…watching him…

This time, he felt the presence of wrath…of hatred…how very un-Angel-like…he sat up in his bed, flicking on the light on the night stand. Standing, he turned to face the Angel behind him…

"What are you doing here, Chuckles?…Hmmmm?….They finally let you off your leash?" Dean said, not bothering to disguise his sarcasm or hatred…

Uriel, for once, deigned not to sling a biting comment back…that was when Dean knew for sure that something was very, very wrong…

Dean turned to Sam's bed, kicking the mattress…"Sammy boy…wake up…something's wrong…"

Sam sat bolt up right in bed, rubbing his eyes, mumbling out the words "Dammit Dean…this had better be good…I just got to sleep 3 hours ago…he turned to look at his brother who pointed in the opposite direction…Sam saw Uriel there…he flinched slightly before crawling out of bed to stand next to his brother…

"Dude! What the Hell is he doing here!?!…" Sam said loudly, the anger rising in his voice…

"I don't know Sam, but I'll bet he's going to tell us…and I can guarantee we are not going to like it…" Dean said, folding his solid, muscular arms across his chest…"So…let's hear it junkless…what the hell has gone down that you're here instead of Cas…….." Dean broke off…that was is…it dawned on him suddenly…something's happened to Cas…"Oh God…What happened? Is he dead? What happened to Castiel?'' Dean said, the worry permeating his voice despite himself…he may not agree with Cas on a lot of things, but the Angel had kinda grown on him…he felt kinda like…family…like a step brother or something…and if Cas was gone…then he was stuck with Uriel…and Uriel would not cut him the same kind of slack that he knew Cas did…

"Very good, mud-monkey…I guess you do have a brain in there somewhere after all…" Uriel sneered…

Dean ground his teeth to bite back a whole host of obscenities that could make even a hardened sailor blush… "Enough with the "mud-monkey" bull-shit…either tell us why you're here of get the Hell out and we'll figure it out for ourselves…" Dean bit out…

Uriel glared at him with utter hatred in his eyes…his lip curled in a cold sneer…he closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fist at his side, willing himself to calm down…he had orders…and as much as he loathed them, he would follow them…he would never want to disobey the Father…

"Fine….I am here…to…….ask….…for your help…" Uriel ground out…


	3. Confrontation

Both Sam and Dean choked, eyes bugging and watering Dean pounded Sam on the back, coughing himself as well…"Whoa whoa whoa…" Dean said hoarsely…he swallowed hard, to try to clear his throat…" What do you mean you need our help?...Your an Angel…what the Hell would need our help for?..."

Dean knew there was something big he was missing…he racked his brain, trying to figure out what it was…he felt like it was ther, on the tip of his tongue…he closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing at his temples…friggin' Angels…he could already feel a headache coming on….then something occurred to him…

"Uriel…you can't find him, can you…I'm willing to bet there are very few ways to hide an Angel…I know Ruby made those voodoo whatever bags…what else could do it?..." Dean said, feeling absolutely certain he was on the right path of thinking now…

Uriel clenched his jaw for a moment…'can't believe I have to ask this mud-monkey for help…' he thought viciously….he took in a slow sigh and let it out, willing himself to be calm, though he was in the presence of such irritating beings…."The demon-whore's witchcraft is one way…there is only one other way I know of…" he bit out bitterly…he may not have agreed with his mentor all of the time, but he was still his brethren…his brother in arms…

Dean looked at Sam for a moment, then turned back to look at Uriel…he crossed his arms across his chest…when Uriel didn't finish, he knew he'd have to drag the information out of him…"And the other way would be….?" He said, the irritation clear in his voice…

"They other way would be is if his Grace was removed… " Uriel said quietly, looking downward…

"Whoa…wait a minute...if that's true, then how were you able to find Ana?" Sam asked, his voice louder then he meant it to be…

Uriel's lip raised in a contemptuous sneer…'tainted, disgusting brood animal…' he mumbled vehemently under his breath…

Dean stepped forward, getting right up in Uriel's face…"What did you say about my brother?...." he said, a murderous glare in his eyes…"I don't care who your boss is…you talk about my brother like that again and I…WILL…kill you…you got me?!?"

Uriel was the first one to break eye contact…he backed away a few steps…

"Glad we got that sorted out….now…my brother asked you a question…." Dean said, his voice baring a harsh edge, his eyes staring daggers at the Angel…

His mere proximity to the lesser being was grating on his nerves…still…he had his orders…he had to do as the sinner bid him to do…


	4. While the Cat's Away

Chapter 4:

While the Cat's Away….

Alastair's beaming face appeared above him once again…he cringed back as far as the restraints would allow, a trembling whimper broke from his lips and Castiel turned his head away, burying it in the flesh of his arm and shoulder, tucking it as far down as he could…

Alastair smiled deeply, savoring the sight of the whimpering, cringing angel…delicious…he turned briefly to pluck a clean towel from the table at his side, wiping his hands of the flesh and blood and sweat of the man he had laid to waste…he held them out before him, tilting his head as he gazed upon the tips of the fingers….blood caked heavily under his nails….a soft tsk tsk sighed from his lips…"that will just never do…", he thought to himself…he tipped the container of rubbing alcohol onto the towel briefly, letting the clear liquid thrum into the cloth and disappear into the fibers….replacing the bottle back to the table, he took the towel and rubbed at the blood and gore caked there. Once he had them cleaned to a satisfactorily pristine level, he tossed the towel down and retrieved the syringe and glass vial that lay waiting silently for use…

Piercing the rubber stopper, he thrust the needle deftly into the viscous liquid and plyed back the plunger, taking in a deep, heavy draw of the fluid therein….he pulled the glinting tip out of the vial with a practiced flick of the wrist and depressed the plunger with a slow, steady flex of his thumb until the liquid beaded along the surface of the metal…he looked with fascination at the gleaming tube he held, "awwww…." he breathed out softly...inwardly thanking modern technology as it furthered his appreciation of the art he wrought so masterfully… he sighed, placing the vial on the tray and moved the fractional distance separating him from his subject…

Alastair turned briefly to look behind him. A pair of demons looked on as he caught their night-dark eyes, nodding….they exited the room, returning moment later, one with a cart of medical objects de jour….and the other with an IV tree…the clatter of the wheels of the encroaching equipment echoed throughout the vast, dim space…

Castiel was near catatonic, withdrawing inside himself, refusing to face whatever new terror could possibly come next…he flinched visibly at every harsh thump and sighing squeak of the new agony he thought was being wheeled toward him…

Alastair allowed the demon servants to set about their assigned work, setting up the equipment, preparing the tubes and such…when they nodded their preparedness, Alastair reached out and dug his hands harshly into Castiel's scalp, gripping down into the wildly astray hair of the angel's host, dragging the haggard face to the fore-front of his view….he bent low, his harsh, hot breath ghosting over Castiel's ear…Castiel shuddered, his own breath escaping him in a terrorized, whimpering gasp, his eyes remaining stubbornly clenched shut…

"Castiel…now now….I'm done for the day…." the whispered hiss of his voice causing the angel to jerk weakly in his grasp, writhing to free himself from the proximity of pure evil that gripped him mercilously…Alastair's jackal-grinned maw fell open into a low, sinisterly rumbling laugh….."See now Castiel…if we were home, in Hell…I would merely think you back into one piece, whole, sound…like magic...a brand-new canvas to play upon for the next day…but…unfortunately for you, we are here…in this limited, weak world…and…I can't make you whole again…and knowing how prone these…….pathetic meatsuits are to disease and mortality, well…it just means I have to modify my routine ever so slightly…can't have nearly a much fun if you aren't able to scream for me…so, I just have to mend you up a little bit before I tear you back down again…"

Alastair wrenched the angel's head up and slammed it back onto the table, eliciting a surprised gasp of pain from Castiel's lips…his eyes flew open…which is exactly what Alastair wanted…he turned slightly and nodded to the demons, who swept in and deftly pierced the back of Castiel's hand, inserting the needlewith the connection for tube for the IV…another needle slid home in the crook of his arm, depositing the junction for a tube that would pump plasma into his system…a thick tube slid down his burning throat…it was quickly covered by a connector to a machine…he felt air rush into him, as the machine took over breathing for him…his laboring lungs piteously accepted the assistance without any resistance or hesitation…

Once Alastair was sure everything was in place, he nodded one last time to the demon servants and they took their leave…he bent over the weak form of the former Angel of the Lord and grinned down into the haunted eyes…"There now…buying myself some more time to play…but, as I am sure you would try to escape, despite the overwhelmingly unlikely odds against you, I am going to give you this sedative, to assure...your continued presence…" He tugged harshly backward on the hair in his grip, exposing the throat's pulsing veins and arteries….he stabbed the needle through the thin skin and angled it through the wall of the vein, depressing the plunger of the needle all the way down in one smooth, rapid movement, then snapping the needle out once again with oft-practiced ease…

Castiel's mind reeled, collapsing into the waiting abyss…his eyes rolled back to white and he fell away into the oblivion awaiting him….


	5. Righteous Fury

Chapter 5:

Righteous Fury…

In the dim, hazy light of the seedy motel room, Dean glared on as the angel was still sneered and muttered silently to himself...  
Uriel finally answered his brother's question, visibly making an effort to restrain himself from acting out further....

"We had her grace...her specific…signature or essence….so to speak…..we were able to use it to find her….Castiel's was taken and kept by the one who took from him…we can't trace him…" he bit out, his fists tensing and unclenching unconsciously in a nerve-filled motion….

"Shit….shit….shit…What about the summoning ritual Bobby used to call Cas…..or Pamela….if she's willing to help…well, she might not be so eager to help look for him, after what happened last time….if not those options, I'm sure Bobby will know….something we can do…Do we have any idea about who took him?" Dean said, though only two people or, rather two demons came to mind…..

"Yes…we know with certainty who took Castiel....it was Alastair…..We caught one of his…lieutenants….he didn't know where….but he….confirmed...it was Alastair who had "bagged himself an Angel of the Lord to…play….with…."…such offense language…..you….humans….seem to revel in it…." Uriel said as shook his head at the audacity the demon had displayed….well, right up until he sent he sent his demon soul burning away into oblivion…

"Oh God….No......no no no…." Dean moaned, his legs giving out….Sam caught him just before he sunk to the floor…he half-carried his brother to the edge of the bed and sunk down to his knees to be eye-level with his brother…

"Dean!" Sam cried sharply, shaking his brother…he wouldn't respond….he shook him harder…Dean's head snapped up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears…

"Dean? What's wrong? Dammit Dean!!!! Answer me, man!!!" Sam's worried voice finally sunk in enough to elicit a response.

Dean turned to look upon the face of the unsympathetic Angel standing a short distance away from him…."How long ago, Uriel?" he whispered, his stomach clenched violently and the bile rose in his throat…

Uriel didn't respond…he lowered his head and refused to meet Dean's eyes…

Dean lost any remaining patience…his sorrow and terror turning rapidly into a blind fury…"How….Long…Ago,….Uriel…" he ground out…."Answer me….That's an order…."

Uriel looked up and glared directly into Dean's eyes…his lips curved to a snarl…his voice took on a resounding, booming presence, the hate reverberating from within him filled the room…."How dare you….you filthy, worthless animal…What makes you think you have the right to order me around?...."

Dean would not be intimidated…he staggered to his feet…his brother tried to brace him, but he wrenched loose from his grasp…he shook with cold fury…He planted himself stolidly in front of the raging Angel…their eyes burning into each others, neither willing to give ground…"I know you were commanded to follow my orders…whether or not you agree is not my problem… you know what happens when one you disobeys the big guy upstairs…answer me…or suffer the consequences… Personally, I hope you do disobey…then I wouldn't have to deal with you anymore…." Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper…


	6. A Grudging Truce

**Chapter 6:**

**A Grudging Truce….**

Uriel growled in frustration…his body shook in barely thwarted fury…turning, he stalked to the far side of the room. He tipped his head back, his fists clenching at his sides. He lowered his head…a harsh, low whisper resounded in the broken silence of the room…

Dean could understand the words, though he had no recollection of ever learning them…he frowned deeply, turning to look at his brother…Sam shook his head and shrugged…now he was truly at a loss, for surely, if he hadn't heard them from Sammy, he had absolutely no idea where the knowledge could have come from…

He turned to look upon the tense form of the Angel, who's head was still bowed in prayer…he closed his eyes and concentrated, letting the words find his mind…

"…forgive me Father…I am finding it difficult to be near these lower beings…I know I have no right to question your orders…I would not question them…I just wonder if perhaps there is some one more…apt…at dealing with them…I will do my best to do as you bid…please Father…give me the patience to withstand temptation and forgive me my unfamiliarity with this chaos I see around me…this humble servant seeks your guidance…"

Dean felt his mouth twitch in a wry grin, which he swiftly stifled…no need to give away the fact that he could understand him….he wrapped his features in a mask of brooding hate…a cold smile alighting on his tight lips…"What's the matter, junkless? Pissed off that Cas let the cat out of the bag? Hmmmmmm? Panties in a twist 'cause you gotta take orders from a mere human?" Dean said loudly, causing the Angel to break off from his prayer and turn succinctly in place to face him….

"Must really piss you off to know you have to listen to me…a mud-monkey…a worthless, dirty animal…that's what he called me, right Sammy?..." he said turning just slightly to catch his brother's eye…

"Yeah…I believe that's what he said…" Sam said, masking his astonishment and confusion well…

Dean turned to face Uriel, crossing his arms across his chest…he desperately wanted nothing more then to use the Angel for a punching bag…the anger flowing hotly through his veins for one wild, tense moment. It sputtered, cooling rapidly as an image of Cas flashed through his mind…he alone know what Alastair would do to his guardian Angel…he swallowed hard at the memories of his 30 years under the blade….he clenched his jaw violently shut as his 10 years wielding the blade played across his mind's eye….he swallowed back the bile spitting acid at the unguarded tissue in his throat, just barely able to staunch the flow of disgust within himself…

He couldn't believe he was going to have to do this…he was going to have to step up and be the bigger man, so to speak…he rolled his eyes and carded his fingers through his hair briefly, sighing…he tucked his hand back across his chest and took one finally moment to assure himself he was in control…"Look…" he said, his voice harsh and hoarse…he swallowed hard, willing himself to sound calmer…"we don't need to do this now…our little… disagreement…can be settled another day….let's call a truce, or cease-fire, or however you want to look at it…. just tell me what I need to know, agreed?" he said, allowing his words to cross the chasm between him and the Angel….

Uriel huffed in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, willing his boiling anger to be staunched…he held his eyes clenched tightly as he worked to dispel his darker urges…when he finally opened his eyes and looked upon the human, the anger was quelled inside himself…"Agreed….another time…another place…." he bit out…..

Dean nodded, satisfied for the moment to accept the grudging truce…"We need to find Cas….That is the most important thing right now….Uriel, how long ago was he taken?..." he said, trying to steel his mind for the coming answer…


	7. Origins

**Chapter 7:**

**Origins**

Castiel regarded Alastair with the kind of unguarded, sullen resignation of an oft-abused animal. The kind of resignation that came with the knowledge that they were unable to stop what was happening to them...the kind that foreshadowed loss of all hope. The once bright intensity that shone from his sapphire eyes… eyes that could burn and pierce through a mortal soul and see the truth hidden away inside, were slowly becoming shrouded and dull. This had been the second day of torture. The second day of pain so unimaginable to the faltering angel that he had tried repeatedly to crawl away inside and hide from the torment. It never failed though that Alastair would come at him with some new, twisted horror and that all his carefully crafted walls would crumble and he would be dragged, kicking and screaming, into the moment as the agony swept through his devastated system.

His mind returned to the moment he had awakened for the day. He had been hoping perhaps it had all been a dream, a nightmarish dream. He knew of their existence from his human charge, Dean Winchester, who had been plagued endlessly by them. He had thought, just maybe, he had somehow found himself undergoing the harrowing experience for himself. He was crushed to find that he was caught in a nightmare that was set in reality. No dream state for him, just the gripping terror of brutality and depravity that had found form in the evil presence he was held captive by.

Castiel had wallowed in the darkness of the drug-induced stupor. He had taken what small relief he could in the small reprieve he was thrust into. His host's whole body burned and ached and throbbed. He alone felt the pain. He had promised himself that Michael, his host body's rightful owner, would never be allowed to feel the pain being wrought upon his form. Castiel used as much of his angelic energy as he had left to him to bind and shield the man from awareness deep inside himself. When the man had given his form to be used by God, he had never signed on for this. And thus it was that he, Castiel, took all the punishment upon himself. He prayed, though he knew not if his prayers were even heard, that he could hold on long enough to die in the form and release Michael without him ever having felt the ministrations that Alastair wrought so skillfully upon him.

Castiel had awoken to the shivering spike of a needle penetrating his nakedly exposed inner thigh. For a few long moments, the foggy haze that pervaded his tremoring mind remained. Soon enough, though, he felt the potent stimulants pulsing through the host's body…Before long, he found himself hyper-aware of every single hurt and throb. He felt the blood positively tingling through his body as everyone of the undamaged nerves sparked to readiness. The damaged nerves flickered on and off, burning out under the strain, or spiking painful surges through his overwrought system. Castiel moaned as every sensation amplified under the inducement of the drugs. Alastair watched from a short distance away, a bemused sort of grin playing on his stern features. He looked on in fascination as the angel came to full and utter awareness. Alastair closed in on the wayward angel's pinned form. He strolled amiably around the prone man, the only outward sign of his awareness of the angel was an occasional tilt of his head as he regarded a plane of body unscathed by his manipulations or as he pondered on how best to elicit the screams and piteous whimpers that were as the finest caliber of music to his ears. Castiel's eyes tracked his movement, his chest heaved as he writhed under the disturbingly intense gaze of the man Alastair possessed.

Alastair studied his newest toy at length. After all, he had no need to hurry. He hated to hurry. It denied him the full pleasure of the experience and it also denied him the ability to truly break his subject under his will. Sure, some broke easier then others, but he did so love the satisfaction of watching that moment…that singular moment, as they lost their last reserve and gave into his will. It was an exquisitely delicious pleasure to him. Each was a delicacy to be treasured, a rare and glorious gem to tuck away in his bountiful vault. He pressed his index finger to his lips, absent-mindedly tapping the digit in thoughtful repose. He decided, finally, what he would like to focus on for the day. He smiled his jackal-like grin as he set to wrapping himself in the full-length white apron and tucked himself and his array of implements close to the former angel's cringing form. He leaned in, gripping the angel's throat, ripping the tube harshly from within his trembling lips. Castiel gasped as the plastic scraped painfully along the delicate tissue of his throat. Alastair detached the leads to the lines from plasma and fluids and nodded to the demon minions to take them away and to leave him to his work. Once they had slunk from his sight, he was able to turn his full attention to his unwilling subject. "Ah…Castiel…I do so hope you enjoyed your rest. I believe it's time we got started, don't you?"

Alastair had started with the blades. Their terrible, sharp planes raked over and through Castiel's body over and over again. He screamed out hoarsely as he was besieged by the thrumming, over-amplified sensations each newly pierced inch of flesh was subject to. Tears poured heavily from his burning eyes as Alastair patiently waited for each racking sob and heaving shudder to die down before continuing to the next expanse of flesh. At long last, he tired of the blades for the moment. Though he favored them heavily, as he felt they could produce the most acute pain he could want to apply, he had other tantalizing options to choose from as well. He lifted a heavy leather and canvas glove from a table behind him. He struck out towards the small blast furnace in the corner of the room. The furnace kept the unnerving chill of the squalor-laden plane of existence he was stuck upon for the moment at a bearably warm level. He levered the heavy cast-iron door open and sighed deeply as the blazing warmth struck him full force. As the exposed flames licked away inside the metal sheath, he thought …'Almost like home'. He reached within the confines of the heat and lifted the metal poker from the flames. It glowed defiantly, as if it held contained within itself the burning embers of flame. Alastair tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment as he regarded the teeming surface of the metal. It brought him back to the good old days. The days he had spent as a human. It really had been a long time ago, but…time was relative. He loved his worked. It never got old. It never got boring. He hummed quietly to himself and he strolled back to the wilting angel, all the while he pondered on the memories that stirred inside his mind.

"You know…I was human…oh, what is that saying…ah… yes…once upon a time, in a land far, far away…" he snickered wickedly for a moment before continuing on "I was a priest, actually." He said as he reached the angel's side. He raked his gaze over Castiel's barrowed body, deciding just were to strike the first blow…his eyes lit up as his gaze played upon the perfect spot…he drug the pulsating metal slowly across the skin of the angel's side and over the ribcage. Castiel's body bucked violently, arcing up against the restraints, the shuddering screams bursting out in pantingly expelled cries. Alastairs lips twisted in a terrible smile. He lifted the metal away from the skin and let the sobbing man's body subside back down to the table's surface. His eyes fluttered closed as he absorbed the whimpers, breathed in the moans…he sighed contentedly before opening his eyes. He picked up where he had left off, stalking gracefully around the table.

"I had my humble beginnings as a priest, slowly working my way up the ranks with in the Church. I came to a suitably high position just in time for the Inquisition…ah….those were the glory days…I was placed in charge of wringing out the confessions of the accused sinners. Lead torturer, as it were, though that was not the official name of the position…I tell you…the Church could rival even Hell with all its politics and squabbling and red tape…Bloody nightmare at times…" he paused as he spied another suitably tender bit of flesh to work on. He drug the burning metal along the jut at the hip, where the side abdominal muscle ended and the pelvic bone began. He slid it down the divot to the inner thigh, grazing the unguarded flesh in a teasingly slow stroke. Castiel arched up, unable to even scream, the sound ripped from his lungs as the flesh seared and burned under Alastair's pleased gaze. He lifted the fiery spike of metal away again, waiting patiently as Castiel collapsed back to the table, eyes and jaw clenched tight as he rode out the white-hot stinging burn. Alastair regarded the metal for a moment. Its glow had subsided since he had plucked it from the blaze. He tsked softly under his breath as he strolled back to the furnace gate. He replaced the metal rod into the flame and withdrew another to replace it…"That's better…" he murmured quietly to himself. He returned to the angel. "Hmmm…now where was I…oh yes…" he said as he paced around the angel again, "I remember now…You see, I was very good at what I did…I took torture to new heights, thought up new, inventive ways to elicit their confessions. As with all things though, too much of a good thing can be bad…I began to crave the things I did…I took immense pleasure in my position. I pushed harder and harder, torturing well past the moment they uttered their confessions. It was then that my colleagues took it upon themselves to condemn me to suffer the same fate…" he paused for a moment. He depressed a lever and the table surface began to retract and was replaced with a widely spaced cage construction that exposed Castiel's back. He depressed another lever and Castiel felt himself tilted forward, the restraints digging painfully into his body as all his weight was deposited more heavily on them. Castiel was now propped upright, his position seemingly a mockery of Da Vinci's Vetruvian Man. "Such toys these pathetic beings have come up with since I last visited!" Alastair said delightedly. He walked around behind pinned body, contemplating the newest pieces of fleshy canvas made available to him.

"As I was saying, I was put to the rack, tortured as I had tortured. Oh, I put up a good fight, but, eventually, Hell came to claim me for its own. I was put to the rack there as well, and for all my carefully honed skills, I was humbled by the pain they could bring me…" he paused to stroke the glaring, seething metal down the exposed length of spine, the nerves that sit so close to the surface there screamed in agony under the onslaught. Castiel flung himself forward in an attempt to get away from the maddening torment. The stench of burning flesh crept into his mouth and nose and he felt the host's body reacting, his stomach roiling and writing inside him. He felt the bile rise, clawing its way up and out of his body. Alastair withdrew the metal and watched with detached interest as the angel shuddered through the sickness. When he stopped heaving, he sunk down, his body slumping against the restraints as he rode the dry heaves into low, moaning pants.

"One day, though I am unsure how long I was down there because, as you know, time plays by its own rules there, but still, one day, my torturer asked me a question. If given the chance, would I pick up the blade and torture other souls. Well…as if there was any question. He seemed pleased at how readily I took to the task. All my earthly skills and all the skills I absorbed under his ministrations, I applied now on the souls set before me. I relished my work. As I had on earth, so it was below. I steadily rose in ranks as my renown for torture grew…" he stroked the rod down the expanse thigh and down to the crook of the knee, thrusting the rod hard into the flesh, until it butted up against the back of the kneecap. Castiel screamed, the pain radiating throughout his body. Alastair withdrew the offending metal and applied the same torment to the other leg. The screams ringing out from the angel's tortured throat became all the more desperate. He withdrew the metal and went to place the rod into the flame once again. He was done working for the day, he decided. The angel wept, unable to quiet the moans pouring from within him for what seemed like an eternity.

Alastair levered the machine down, allowing the table to slide in beneath the angel's body. Alastair set to cleaning himself up as he listened with relish to the angel as he whimpered and wept behind him. Finally the angel began to subside, the drugs starting to fade from his system. Alastair closed his eyes and mentally sent a message to the demon's that stood in wait in the other room. They wheeled the carts in and set to reattaching the leads and tubes under Alastair's watchful glare. Once they completed their task, they took their leave and left Alastair alone with the harrowed angel once again. Castiel regarded Alastair with lethargic, resigned eyes as Alastair prepared the sedative once again.

"Well, now, you can guess the rest of the story…I am the king of the mountain, so to speak. I have been for quite some time. No one has even compared to my quality and craftsmanship in a good long while…that is, until I broke Dean Winchester…ah…now there was a quick study…" his words broke off as his eyes shifted away to assure there was no air in the needle tube, once satisfied, he continued "I think if I could have had a bit more time I could really have brought him along quite nicely, who knows…someday, I might even have had him sharing my position…but, alas, you went and ruined that. Well, at least for the time being…all goes to plan and I might just be able to reclaim him after all…" He slid the needle home into Castiel's throat, piercing the vein with precision and depositing the sedative into his system with succinct skill before removing the thin metal blade in a quick, deft sweep of his hand.

Alastair brought his face close to the angel's, whispering menacingly into his ear…"Rest up while you can…we're going to have some real fun tomorrow…After thinking about my beginnings, I just have this…craving…to bring out some of the oldies but goodies…" his laughed wickedly, leaning back to watch the angel succumb to the drugs. Alastair's jackal-like grin faded slowly from view as Castiel let himself sink readily into the night-dark blackness of oblivion.


End file.
